


The Arthurian Chronicles of Wind: Volume I

by MaerqwathShadowsoul



Category: Arthurian Mythology
Genre: Arthurian, Dark Fantasy, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 05:07:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17461175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaerqwathShadowsoul/pseuds/MaerqwathShadowsoul
Summary: All hail Arthur Pendragon, the high king of Britain. Set to continue in Q2 to Q3 of this year of 2019. On-going for the next 1-2 years, I presume. I need to get into researching the source book more, and venture deeper into the ways of writing, and explaining the tale.This is a bonkers version compared to the original, the first volume.. is a mess on purpose.The book I am loosely basing this on is: The Legends of King Arthur & His Knights by Sir James Knowles.  Le Morte d'Arthur is an incredible version as well, though I am yet to fully explore it's rich lore, based on Thomas Malory's view of the legend.





	The Arthurian Chronicles of Wind: Volume I

There sat Vortigern the Usurper  
upon the throne in the city of London,  
which he had taken by unrightful claims  
and bloodshed from Uther Pendragon,  
descendant of the now deceased  
Ambrosius Aurelianus, when suddenly,  
the guards came running in,  
their weapons drawn, in fear's grip,  
with their minds utterly confused, stating:

 

"There is a mysterious man here, sire, who wishes to speak with you. Urgent business with the King, he says."

 

Vortigern hesitated not, angered, he demanded they let this intruder in to the hall,  
and there after the guards came slowly walking in Merlin, the great mage of a sage,  
a colorful appearance for certain, for glowed did he with an ancient light,  
and robed and hooded was he in the colors of midnight blue, boldly declaring:

 

Merlin: "Hear me, o' vile King Vortigern, for there shall come a time for you to fall, false ruler of London. This says I, Merlin, the wise and the knower of knowledge, and know this.. dreaded be ye fate and that of an accursed stone tower, which ye have been trying to build, to where ye might flee the vengeance of Uther. Underneath it two dragons secretly fight, worsting at each other with great fury during the night. Shaking the very foundations of the land. Is this.. perhaps impossible to understand? Meet me there after the nightfall, and I shall show ye their lair. The fire-breathing battle of claws of the colors scarlet red and cerulean white. Agreed? And when the dragons will be found fighting there, I shall laugh, and cast a doom upon ye. One, that shall be told to all ears willing to listen, and feared far and wide across the regions of Terra."

 

The prophecies of Merlin,  
an agent of Enestrin the Elusive,  
all of them meant to become true,  
for magic has always existed among us,  
dawn the age of a young boy,  
who the fabled Excalibur,  
the Lady of the Lake's prized sword of destiny..  
shall come to righteously and valiantly wield.

Witness countless legendary battles,  
the clashes of the kings and their armies,  
the influence of the witch-queens  
and other obscure horrors,  
here be dragons and giants,  
blood runs cold in all of the rivers of Britain,  
as terrible wars are being fought one after another.

The flight of Lancelot,  
the arrival of Mordred,  
the trial of Guinevere.

All play a role in this long poetic legend,  
which tells about the High King, Arthur Pendragon,  
and his knights, whom under his divine guidance..  
faced a lifetime of battles and utter peril.

A good king's only purpose and goal..  
is to defend the kingdom and it's people at all costs.

O' Arthur Pendragon,  
the legend of your rule  
as the mighty king,  
blessed by the common folk  
of Britain, and the Faeries  
of Avalon of Falling Stars  
still shines on in the hearts of Man.

Son to Uther, the iron fist of the Citadel of Camelot,  
a heritage unrevealed, trained to be a knight since birth,  
in the care of a man, Sir Ector you grew, on advise of Merlin.

Destined to change the world, I set out on a task to form the new order of the Round Table, and to unite all of Britain's great nations. In the sight of the heavens gleaming above at me, I swear, that I shall not fail in my quest to bring peace unto Camelot, and all of the lands of Britain.

 

Merlin: "Master Blachaise, I have once more come to you with a purpose, for in many a detail I must now tell you of the legendary adventures of the young king, Arthur Pendragon. And from this day onward, you shall record these events, from tragic battles to glorious victories, from the monsters slain to the people saved in this time of war. This is.. where valor of mysticism is given a new meaning."

 

This is the beginning.. of a journey through time.

 

The Arthurian Chronicles of Wind: Legend of the High King of Britain.

 

Forever aged twenty seven,  
a black-haired sage  
sent from the red heaven.

 

From this point onward, nothing shall be.. in a complete order.

 

Such is the cryptic; all-powerful will of Merlin.

 

Until.. the book has become the sword.. once again.

 

This legend has two sides, like a coin of gold.

 

Of poetry and story, of wars and duels, of drama and affairs.

 

The War Council Preceding the Quest of Saehngraill

 

At this point of the war council held in the king's chambers in the Castle Camelot, only two people remained deadly silent in front of the table. Staring at each other intensely, no words were spoken between Arthur and Merlin, yet everyone knew, that either one would sooner or later speak up. The arguing of the knights, of which a half could be considered frantic laughter by many, was utterly silenced by Arthur, when he suddenly hit his royal mug half-full of ale on the Round Table, to the spot where his name was carved, splashes of ale all over the fine oaken wood, saying:

Arthur: "Merlin, surely ye know of something that could save the Queen's life, ere tomorrow claims her as it's own through wickedness of this potion, with which she has been so wrongfully poisoned? If thou know of even one single relic, or item of great significance, or of magic, which could save Guinevere's life, then do say it here and now! I am prepared to take action. Tell me where I should travel, and how many knights and squires I am to take with me on the journey?"

After a long period of silence, Merlin glanced at Arthur sharply, then took a large sip of red wine from his golden goblet, smiling slightly:

Merlin: "Yes, there is one way. Do you know the legend of Enestrin Blachaise, he, whose name is not to be spoken aloud lightly? He is a being not of this world, who I also call my master, and he once hid a chalice of life's purity within earthly caverns deep, that lie beneath the city of London. And there it awaits untouched to this very day, resting upon a golden pedestal in the comfort of a red; silken pillow, guarded by magma giants and fire-breathing scarlet dragons. The relic is called 'Saehngraill', and it can heal any wound, no matter how grave, singeth be the skin, and cure any illness, be it rare or not. With my powers, I can cast a protective aura spell on Guinevere, which will reduce her pains greatly, and slow the poison's effects on her body. The journey to London will take it's own time, not to speak of the long descent down into the catacombs, which have not been disturbed for untold ages. Should we depart two hours from now, I am confident we will make it back here in time to save her from the grasp of this most terrible poisoning, caused by the witch Morgana. Once defeated, the dragons should bow to you, and thus, in the end, the two of us shall fly on leathery wings of a dragon back home. I aim to subdue one with my magical abilities. Questions? Let's hear them!" 

 

Resourceful, passionate and headstrong, that is Queen Guinevere,  
entangled in relationships, while a ship sails away carrying the King,  
seeds of treason sown, Lancelot du Laich's final flight is nearing,  
two lives entwined in tragedy for the sake of truly baneful love.

 

The remarkable quest for the Saehngraill begins,  
Holy Cup of Life's Blood and Twilit Eternity,  
Arthur leads the cavalry purified of mortal sins,  
eighty knights, twenty squires, emanating capability,  
descending to the depths of Terra, to discover the origins  
of a being yet unknown to Man, he who liberates  
those willing to listen and pray from all acts of enmity.

 

The catacombs were built to house Enestrin's cosmic powers,  
which were sealed away in ancient times, now guarded by dragons,  
beneath the very foundations of London it's entrance stands,  
the molten gates of stone lead the adventurers to behold towers  
as old as the heart of the world itself, built by the magma giants,  
keepers of secrets, banishers of intruders, obey ye given commands. 

 

Mordred's the Mystic's Rise and Fall

 

Hooded mystic approached a grove surrounded with pines,  
taller than birches, an altar of stone guarded by walls of ivy,  
rest o' brave heroes of the past looming before night's eyes,  
accompanied only by a white candle and it's light undying,  
the abstruse rites shall be recited, as old as the moon above,  
yet younger than the sparkling stars of azure blue and gold,  
bestower of blessings fallen from grace to shadow's embrace,  
Mordred, child of the trees and druids, Morgana's ally,  
Arthur's secret failure as a husband brought to daylight,  
Morgause, the King's half-sister is the absconding mother,  
living in a castle faraway, gargoyles, serpents and golems  
protect her honor as a witch-queen, whose magic corrupts  
those around her in a malign manner, she is the master planner,  
a chain of events preordained, like a volcano, the truths erupt.

Through deeds of false honor,  
a young man grown in the care  
of druids, would slyly abandon  
the use of magic, shield King Arthur  
from harm, a sense of loyalty built.

The closing war, it shall one day dawn upon us,  
Mordred has many dismal songs to sing,  
usurp the high throne through spells of mistrust,  
o' devoted of Morgause, under her wing  
ye learned of magic, and became cruel and unjust.

Cover for sister Morgana, take the blame,  
fall and rise to destroy, to rule over them all,  
the castle walls keep falling around him,  
while the candlelights in the main hall go dim.

 

Merlin: "The mystic of the night silently sings of blood rituals, unheard by all ears in the caverns of his somber mind. His unspoken words yearn for despairing times to come, when light shall die out, it's ever golden shine turned ashen black. Oh the many years he must have spent, in order to fully master the plan; the chain of plots set to spiral towards it's lethal end. Infiltrate the Royal Court of Camelot. Earn the trust. Seduce the queen. Let the skills and skulls clash in the fated battle of Camlann. Such.. daring plans. I feel I should let the young king know of this, yet.. then it would not be.. fun at all. I shall sit back, and observe. And should I notice something being awry, I shall make haste, and correct the course of Destiny. I set this legend in motion, for I am it's wheels; the great mentor of heroes and kings from times immemorial. Many are my names, those I have chosen to keep for myself. On Terra, I am best known as.. Arch Mage Merlin."

 

Play them all like unknowing fools,  
marionettes to dance and obey,  
lightning and fire, the two schools  
of magic he once mastered,  
before the call of the forbidden  
darkened his druidic mind forever,  
and in the grip of a sanguine lunar fever,  
he was born anew, one with darkness,  
emptiness for dreams, devoid of sadness,  
his robes are as coal black as his hair,  
the book of incantations floats in the air  
beside him, a sword aflame surrounded  
by demonic; snake-like figures, hooded  
is Mordred, the Warlock of Broceliande.

 

Mordred, gifted among the Druids,  
evil spirits controlling his thoughts,  
a pursuer of success, that which Arthur achieves,  
he seeks to ruin by working from the safety of shadows.

 

Mordred is the night,  
Arthur is the day,  
a circumspect knight  
now stands in his way,  
he will swear an oath,  
words to ruin a man's world,  
stains of blood in his name,  
darkness is the magician's path,  
steal the heavenly crown, rise to fame  
through the ply of black spells so wicked,  
that it could bring about.. King Arthur's end

 

Mordred's rise and fall from high grace,  
the witch-queen has an secret ace,  
wrapped in the care of her long sleeves,  
a malicious smile, calming silence,  
the lady of night calls for demon thieves.

 

Morgause:

 

"Cut down the trees, crush the leaves,  
leave only poisonous ponds in ye wake,  
corrupt the waters of Lake Llyn Llydaw,  
show that you are more than mere pawns,  
and return back to me ere dawn arrives."

To no avail, the demon thieves tried and tried,  
only to find themselves drowned or petrified,  
shadowy whispers flee the wrath of Nimue,  
whose eyes now sheen with cyan blue.

 

The Tournament of Knights I

 

A royal tournament of knights so bold,  
the carriers of renown,  
Sir Lancelot was of polished silver,  
Arthur was of gleaming gold,  
betrayal through black magic,  
asword's blade coated in venom snakes,  
mutterer of hissing words  
among the cheering crowd of thousands,  
eyes turned canary yellow,  
a somber witch's wickedness is boundless,  
Morgana's gentle smile indicates  
cruel intentions, a spell is cast,  
Sir Gawain foreshadows the actions  
of she, who remains chaste,  
his sword drawn from it's hilt,  
a leap of haste is required,  
the hooded figure lost from sight,  
the maiden's knight inquires,  
she became stealthy with the castle Camelot  
as her training ground, now she is nowhere to be seen,  
vanished into thin air, Guinevere's unerring eye  
spots an uninvited guest, alert the guards,  
sorceress le Fay flees to the Broceliande forest,  
home of druids, lances cease clashing completely,  
as she enters the nature's dark green domain.

 

Random Arthurian Documentations

 

Tristram and Isoilde, travelers hailing from Ireland,  
the forest roads are the stages of ambush,  
where the blades of swords too oft clash,  
there on horseback rides a future knight  
harboring such doubtful thoughts in his mind.

Always a quiet observer, tenacity overwhelming,  
will a flask of poison given keep the lovers apart,  
and cease serenades being played by a golden harp?

 

Mordred's grim song echoes in the darken hall,  
where the mystic is one with the truth of nightfall,  
while Arthur chases Lancelot across the lands and plains,  
magically seduce Guinevere, and proceed with ye evil plans.

Lancelot left her behind at Herefordshire's borders,  
and told her to speak to the knights following,  
that her actions were forced, and under his orders  
she fled the Castle of Camelot, joined in flight.

 

Lancelot: "No more shall I seek to escape the king's heavenly wrath. Here, in midst of these orchids, I shall stand and wait. Surely Sirs Gawain and Gareth have found her by now, and she has been taken back to court to answer for choosing the traitor's path. O' lighted one above, let her live, smile and repent. Not in death, for she is the fairest creature ever to have walked upon this earth."

 

Lancelot versus Arthur, Prior to the Fight

 

Long was Arthur's chase on horseback, until he finally arrived to a signpost leading to a lush meadow full of carmine orchids, rarest of them all. He saw a horse tied up around a birch, and he recognized it belonged to Lancelot. And there, in the middle of the flowers and their petals swirling joyously in the wind, stood a knight, who did not crack a smile, nor did he cry, he just stood there.. waiting. His lance and sword, as shining as ever, ready at his disposal. And there the king walked, but just before Lancelot du Laich was bowing in reverence, Arthur had already knelt down in front of him. With a confused look on his face, Lancelot asked from him:

 

Lancelot: "Why.. why are you - out of all people kneeling to me, when I have done you so much wrong? I.. do not deserve your mercy. I.. do not deserve your forgive-"

 

But before Lancelot could continue, Arthur interrupted his speech by placing his right hand in a full fist, striking it against the palm of his left hand, he shouted:

 

Arthur: "Silence! For once, do as you are told, hear me out, and put ye weapons down on the ground at this instant. I have a proposition, a way out of this most perilous situation, in which we are about to duel each other to death. I shall not allow it. Will you - the former chief of the Arthurian knights - hear me out?"

 

Placing Nemeskmiar, the watery Lance of the Laich, and his royal sword on the ground, he also knelt down and said:

 

Lancelot: "I have no words with which to describe the overwhelming kindness bestowed upon your gracious soul. Surely, never have I met a man so honorable, that after fighting for a lady's favor with all of our heart's might, you would still elect to show me.. mercy. I do not understand. I am a traitor. You should fight me here and now, despite the bloody outcome."

 

Smiling at Lancelot, Arthur rose back on his feet, stretching his hand towards him, asking the abashed knight to stand up.

Arthur: "Now, it is my turn."

 

And with that said, Arthur hit the sword Excalibur deep unto the soil of Terra, and with tens of lightning bolts of gold sparking up towards deep blue of the heavens above, he declared the terms whether how to settle the score of animosity between the two.

 

Arthur: "I have come to a conclusion, that neither of us should die on this day. I have come here in peace, to talk and find out ye inner motives. Know that your betrayal hurts, but not to an extent that it would be an excuse to take your life in a fit of rage. I blame Guinevere as well, yet I am ready to forgive her deceptive actions of passion, and prevent this day from ending in tragedy. On my way here, I realized that I could never take ye life, for I hold you dear in my heart, my friend and brother in arms. My proposition goes as follows: for the next five hours, we shall be the best of friends, drink the best of ale and tell the best of tales to each other. And after those five hours spent, we shall do combat with one-handed swords for the next three. And the last man standing after three hours, is a victor. And the other one, who is to taste the soil of Terra, loses the right to Queen Guinevere's love. Lady Nimue has told me the truth, that she raised you, o' that voluptuous Lady of the Lake. Even I embraced her once, on her behest, but alas, I was young and yearning for experiences. Still, I hold no regrets for doing so. She has also told me, that your lance, Nemeskmiar, possesses a great magical power of the waters of Llyn Llydaw. And that it will one day serve me well in the valley of Camlann, where I am to meet Mordred the Usurper for one last time, and smite him down.. to the bleeding ground! His is the head, which ye lance must pierce fiercely. And that is why you shall not win the fight between us, for my Destiny burns with a flame too intense to be extinguished. The everflowing path chosen for me by Lady Nimue and Arch Mage Merlin remains unchanged." 

 

The Quest of Nemeskmier, Silvery Lance of the Laich

 

(of Sir Lancelot, and his trials)

 

It all began with a knight, who not only wanted to protect the innocent, but he wanted to be the hero, who claims glory for slaying a mighty beast, and is greeted as such whenever he goes. And for these reasons alone, Lancelot chose the way of the knight, and traveled far to Camelot, where a citadel had been built anew after Arthur's ascension to kinghood. His father, Uther Pendragon, left him a heritage unmatched, the bottomless boots to fill. And the sword Excalibur would crown his reign as the invincible king, to who no arrows could do harm, as long as the light within the sword shone with a brilliant radiance, no foe could even hope to leave a scratch in his golden armor; engraved with the insignia of his family resembling a scarlet-cerulean white dragon spreading it's wings.

Whereas Lancelot, a mere mortal, had to rely on his wits, swordsman skills and haste in all the battles and arduous events he faced throughout his active career as a warrior of honor. Of course, Arthur knew it himself too, that he did not need the sword Excalibur to be the King, for he was renowned all across the world for his impressive swordplay. The two friends, seats eternally reserved from front of the Round Table, yet they both now shared a common affection. Guinevere, the Queen. Love can be cruel, when two men find themselves fighting for the same lady's attention. How far can such rivalry of emotions take a human being, when given no opportunity to choose from between good and evil? Blinding truths, drama and duels. Lancelot, will you suffice a second place in the war of hearts? Or will you.. choose another; more violent path for yourself in order to succeed further in life? No, surely your inherited nobleness shall keep your thoughts cooled, yet feelings fool none. 

A sacrifice is always an option.  
Is your soul ready to travel to Avalon?  
Nothing left to fight for?  
Is this the end of the Silvery Lance?

 

The title acquired from slaying the ferocious and deadly Griffin, brought you renown across Britain's many lands, and now you are being hailed as one of the Kingdom's shining hopes in it's fight against the dangerous users of the dark arts of magic.

 

Merlin: "I shall accompany you to the forest's edge, o' young knight Lancelot of the Round Table of Camelot. No further than that, for you have a meeting with Destiny, and she is not fond of interferences. I may look young, yet I am far older than the earth upon which we stand. A spell I now cast, an aura to shield your body from harm's way, yet the limit is three fatal blows received, after which the aura will gradually begin to diminish, until it's gone completely. If you cannot finish off the Griffin by that time, then surely you shall perish in it's razor-sharp claws. The wings bring forth such terrible gusts. Take this ivory horn of howling voices. One blow to it, and the screaming stars shall aid you, fall down, and scorch the earth beneath. Collect the blue stardust, and bring it to me. A new lance shall be forged from steel and stardust with a pinch of magic. As the Court Wizard, I am allowed to perform that, which in the past would have been rewarded with a pyre to purify one's sins. King Arthur has denounced the continuity of such barbaric ways of judgment and sentencing. He may yet succeed in that, which Uther could not. Go now, my son. Let my peculiar musings keep you not, for ye must achieve this epic victory, or Arthur will never recognize your valour and worth as a knight. As an elusive agent of Enestrin the Lighted, I am the evanescent mist, and the same mist is me. The shadows know my story, the weak-hearted as well, the mentorer of kings, was born a dark; midnight blue-robed wanderer."

 

Lancelot: "The arch mage left by disappearing,  
like a chameleon would use the terrain  
in order to activate an inherited camouflage.

Merlin just merged with the lingering; frosty mist  
in a most thorough; eerie manner,  
and so the brave knight, Sir Lancelot  
prepared himself to challenge a fabled beast.

What an awe-inspiring act of vanishing,  
I say, let the battle finally begin,  
winged troubles of wind lie ahead,  
accidentally crush a bough of an appletree,  
alarm the Griffin, red eyed and deadly,  
o' inflicter of searing wounds,  
no more shall ye wreak havoc freely.

Tonight ye reign of hurricanes and trees torn-down ends,  
legends can be born of either a fated occurrence,  
valorous heroism or unspeakable tragedy.

A test of endurance, wit and combat techniques,  
sacrifices must be made, charge, pierce it's flesh  
yellowed red and leathery, beware of it's shrieks,  
it's special ability is both terrifying and unique,  
my silvery royal armor and lance, charged with might,  
one starfall of screams left to use, choose well,  
create a perfect distraction, a nearby huckleberry bush,  
from it's rich midst to the scene jumps an agile deer,  
let it gain the Griffin's imminent attention, wait,  
as it slashes the deer's body in a half with it's talons,  
now is the time to strike, call to the stars for their aid,  
run, evade it's attacks successfully, and cut through the torso,  
a hit from the eagle's head, flee for a while, jump at a tree,  
leap at the Griffin with power, and with precision, pierce  
one of it's eyes with ye lance, the blade sunken deep  
in it's brain, the beast staggers, until it finally collapses,  
the lion's body covered in blood, feathers dropping off,  
yet it's shrieks unnaturally gloomy and screeching  
still echo in form of pain, with my eardrums bleeding,  
I shall take it's head as an trophy to bring back to Camelot." 

 

The Reign and Death of King Arthur Pendragon

 

Valiantly he raised the half red, half golden  
dragon-patterned flag up into the air,  
a shout to greet friends and foes alike with.

Gloriously he spoke of supreme victory,  
before the grand battle had even began,  
the heavens smiled down upon him,  
as he gave the final command to the knights:

Now is the time.. to ride into the heart of blood, steel and fire!

His horse running past it's physical limits,  
a mind unwavering has only one quest to finish:  
to rule over all of Britain. 

Blessed by Nimue, The Lady of the Lake,  
the name of Arthur Pendragon is now engraved  
in he blade of the sacred sword, Excalibur.

It shines with the radiating might of the sun,  
with Avalon's spirit energy powering my heart's desires,  
I accept my destiny of becoming a doom on the battlefield.

I do not even need a shield, for this sword's  
protective aura of eye-blinding light reflects..  
all arrows and spells shot and cast at me,  
yet I cannot use this ability.. more than ten times a day.

The faeries aid me with air magic,  
the wind favors my presence in the woods,  
never have I considered this burden of mine tragic..  
a true king needs no pity, his only dream..  
is to keep the kingdom safe from bandit,  
witch and dragon attacks, until the sleep of eternity..  
is fated to claim the youthful scarlet dragon's..  
fatefully and magically engineered life.

 

Arthur: "Supernatural forces may be behind my birth, yet I.. consider myself a man, son to a king, and whether if not I am a result of some mysterious incantation of power cast by Merlin, I do not care. I believe, that the truest test of mettle.. is to be able to righteously wield her wild; goddess-like power in form of spirit energy, colors white and green. I call upon your light, Excalibur, do enchant this scene of my mind so serene and determined, as I utter the holy words:

 

For the Lady, the Arch Mage, the Wind, the Sword and the Kingdom! For Uther Pendragon and Ambrosius Aurelius! I am Arthur Pendragon, and I shall not rest, until all of the invading forces of the Saxons stand defeated before me, along with this country's most terrible monsters and abnormalities. May Excalibur shine bright, until my time comes. I know what lies ahead. To a king, each lived day could be his last. Live without regrets, never looking back, always heading forward."

 

A lion's unwavering will to lead the battle,  
and mysteriously win time after time.  
Certainly even the stars of the sky favor my reign,  
I have not gained a single combat wound..  
after the day upon which I infused my spirit with Excalibur.  
God of the Sky, hear my prayers,  
let me claim Britain as my own.  
I believe my claim to the high throne to be just.. destined,  
the end cannot touch my existence, until I see all these lands united.  
Gift me with.. an everlasting will to last through the coming hardships.

 

Arthur: "Merlin, since you are the wisest of all known sages, do tell me. If your eyes divine define my existence and that of so many others, then I must know.. what does your crystal ball of a mind have to say.. about the events and battles that lie ahead? Will there be.. foreign rulers, witches, druids, sorcery of the both sides, dragons, giants, trolls and marauding bandits gone mad with greed and bloodlust? If so, then.. it seems a lot of slaying and negotiating lies ahead of me."

 

Merlin: "Yes, my son, Arthur, there will be.. monsters. And a Round Table, around which many a knight will sit in time, eating, drinking, talking and plotting. And there will be.. a silvery knight with a deadly lance, raised by someone royal, yet shadowy. Dread his intentions, revere his vigilance. He will arrive at a most crucial time, and both of you.. are fated to fall in love.. with the same woman. This prophecy, like so many others before it, is meant.. to befall. Until the next time we meet, young king."

 

Merlin proudly bows, pulls the hood over his head and walks away, disappearing into the evening mist, that he is, and has always been.

 

O' Arthur Pendragon, a mortal boy forged..  
into a weapon of supreme righteousness,  
you walk head up high from a battlefield to another,  
shielding your men with the bloodied light..  
of a legendary golden; jewelled sword of the wind's purity.

Never look back, never abandon a person in the need of help,  
in ye realm, the folk treat and greet you as a human being,  
not as a chosen of God of the Sky and Merlin.

You are a king, who fights for the kingdom,  
defend it's people until the end, and when it's day finally dawns,  
be ready to embrace your destiny with open arms.

Do not forget, that the constellations of Avalon  
now exist as pure spirit energy merged..  
together with your kind heart of high justice.

 

Arthur: "If this weapon of celestial might will grant me a chance to unite all of the lands of this great country of Britain, then I shall carry on my duty.. until the end. If you are His envoy, then I do not judge you for your deeds, yet know this. I am Arthur Pendragon, son to Uther Pendragon and Igraine, through a deceitful night of disguises and lust I was born, a magic spell cast on my father by you. I am willing to accept this, no matter how much rage I feel about the truth behind my birth, I am ready to cast it all aside in order to become the greatest king, who ever lived! And even if my reign is fated to end in tragedy, I shall give it my best.. to enjoy it all."

 

Merlin: "May his reign.. last for many decades to come.. that much can be granted.. after all.. the shining power he wields.. using it comes with a high cost indeed."

 

Merlin: "He, who seeks for greatness.. be brave, more than thousands of men have tried to pull this sword out of the stone, which was enchanted by me to accept a person, whose heart is willing to dream of only one thing: safety of the kingdom. For peace.. and justice. Yet know this, becoming a tool of the heavens does not differ much from becoming a tool of the underworld. Tragedy awaits you, no matter what you choose to do with the power given, once you claim this artifact of legend.. as your own.. the doors of the grey end will open, and a spiritual bond is created between you and the sword, even though the truest sword of the heavens is only granted to the selected by Lady Nimue. Without the choosing sword, one cannot gain a right to wield her precious; divine keepsake, called Excalibur, of gold, unique jewels and elegance of the wind."

 

Morgause could never forget the death of her father, Gorloise,  
nor the premeditated night of lust and magical disguises,  
an assassin sent from a nearby kingdom, the king..  
slain in his sleep,  
while Uther walks into Igraine's bedroom to commit..  
a sin of flesh and deceit.

Mordred, gifted among the Druids,  
evil spirits controlling his thoughts,  
a pursuer of success, that which Arthur achieves,  
he seeks to ruin by working from the safety of shadows.

Lancelot, son to Ban and Elaine, raised by Lady Nimue,  
awarded the griffin slayer's title for his heroic deeds,  
bested by Arthur in the clash of colors gold and white,  
o' future betrayer of the Round Table and the High Throne.

Friendship on trial, love in denial,  
the queen Guinevere kidnapped,  
the young king in the grip of grave distress.

 

This is how the greatest hero of Britain.. shall meet his end. 

To know the end.. is to know peace. 

To defend the kingdom.. is a king's only goal.

Shine bright in many battles.. to come.

Modred will meet.. a death most gruesome.

And he will not be able.. to kill Arthur..

with his mightiest blow.. even without Arthur using..

the fabled Excalibur.. is not needed.. a sharpened lance of steel.. will do.

Let skull of the traitorous mystic crack open.. in the final battle of Camlann!

 

Merlin:

"Doors of the grey end welcomed you a long time ago,  
do you still remember the day you pulled the sword,  
which chooses it's wielder from the stone enchanted with magic? 

On that day.. I gave you a warning:

should you claim this lesser artifact of power as your own, and proceed forward to meet Lady Nimue by the waters Llyn Llydaw, the Lake of Holiness, the day you achieve your final conclusive victory in the great chain of battles, and are will finally crowned the high king, with your wife, the queen sitting by your side along with your firstborn child, is the day, when upon seeing the first ray of sunlight shining through ye castle's windows, the curse of Excalibur shall fatefully awaken, slowly beginning to turn your being into stone, starting from your fingers, ending with your heart petrified. 

When that unavoidable day dawns still long from now, you will be at the peak of your royal career, so there is nothing to worry about. Say farewell to those you love, and ride with haste to the Lake. There, you shall fulfill your final duty.. as a god-like king, yet your true journey.. will not end upon that day, for your mortal spirit.. is destined to live on. And the reward for all of your deeds.. a safe passage to the dimensional island of Avalon."

 

Arthur: 

 

"Here by the Lake, I shall complete the final task  
given to me by the great ruler of Light, Enestrin,  
God of the Sky, hereby, I accept my mortal destiny in stone,  
by becoming the living statue of legacy and selection.

Lady Nimue will rise from the depths,  
and watch over my ascension,  
before my fleshly being fully ceases to be,  
she is to kiss me goodbye, while piercing my heart  
with Excalibur, my name writes itself off, as the artifact..  
is returned back to it's original; less brighter silvery form,  
so that the next chosen willing to wield it's power of invincibility,  
shall inherit the memories, spiritual strength and abilities of he,  
who the world shall afterwards remember..  
as Arthur Pendragon, the High King of Knights."

 

Arthur Pendragon and Excalibur are now one,  
the grey end has dawned, yet he will never truly be gone,  
eyes of the statue activate, glowing with a golden light,  
for his undying warrior spirit still resides within.

Excalibur is feeding him with spirit energy,  
sustaining his life until..  
a worthy successor.. arrives..  
miraculous days such as those only occur..  
once in three hundred years.

Reaching out towards the stormy heavens  
with his left hand, holding his right hand  
in a full fist, the sacred sword thrust through his heart,  
blessed be the reign of the dragon of Camelot,  
he, who by living a life of nobleness and bloody wars,  
managed to unite the great Britain's many lands.

 

Arthur: "While my spirit lives on inside the statue of a king I used to be, what is left of my physical form has become pure energy, allowing me to enter the luminous realm of Avalon, where I shall at last meet all the past kings and heroes of Britain and find everlasting rest. There, I shall also greet Merlin for one last time, and he will tell me about the winds of future, including the fact that my reign.. was successful, and that I managed to leave behind.. a legacy.. of war, honor and peace."

 

The Windy Narrator: "Excalibur, like all other divine artifacts of power come with limited charges. With the help of Light, Arthur could shine bright three times a day and become invincible for a span of ten minutes per utilization. Normally, he would trust to his wits, flawless swordsmanship and hand-to-hand combat techniques, but with Excalibur's power activated, he could move with an unimaginable speed, cutting with ease through the lines of enemies, blinding their eyes forever."

 

Morgana le Fayeh, the Malevolent Witch

 

The shunned forest of Broceliande on her side,  
bear in mind, that if you choose to pursue her,  
no search party of knights will be able to find  
you from midst the vast wilderness, there..  
anyone's bound to go mad, if given enough time,  
cries for help fade to black, accept this fate,  
it is never too late to turn back, unless..  
the path remembered has become a circle,  
as if one never set foot in the forest of whispers,  
where a blessing.. is smothering silence of the trees.

Danger of the realm, harbinger of evil dreams,  
praised be those raised from the dead,  
pristine since the age of sixteen,  
Morgana's boiling cauldron is filled  
with seven shrinketh heads of goblins,  
three pairs of pixie wings, and an eye of griffin.

A dark-haired beauty basking in the pale moonlight,  
her black; velvety gown wet from the evening rain,  
on a mossy green rock she waits for a bringer  
of the nightshade roses, water splashes and stains of mud,  
none of it can make her gaze wander or focus waver.

Terrifying secrets are being whispered  
in the heart of a cloudless night,  
with none daring to oppose her bloody ways,  
the witnesses she charms with pretty lies,  
unwillingly possessed, Morgana's weapon of choice  
is a flaming dagger, yet even her black words harm  
those hearkening, gathered to act as her puppets.

O' the wrought misery of consequences,  
cruel is the mind of a young woman  
once watched so dearly over.

Morgana walks caressing the shadows,  
hooded from all curious eyes,  
ravens of the nightfall answer to a witch's call.

In the garden of petunia's doomed to never bloom,  
lie fossils of two ancient dragons, red and white,  
that hum with power once so greatly sought.

In her inner sanctum of thorns and roots  
she dwells, creating new dark magic spells,  
guarded by oaks wielding tree trunks of aspens.

The night belongs to a yellow eye'd one,  
a somber witch's wickedness knows no bounds.

Morgana, guardianship lost,  
magic and misleading guidance,  
the cost of royal blood,  
horrendous truths revealed,  
the moon's pale beauty sleeps..  
in ye ever focused eyes,  
glaring all commoners..  
to the borderlands of death.

There in the shadows walks the sorceress le Fayeh,  
dressed in an elegant; black silken gown,  
fully prepared.. to claim the night.. as her own. 

 

Arthur's Dark Conversational Poems

 

Arthur: "The northern wind called me to Norway,  
where I was met with hostility and acts of brutality,  
I went there with the most elite of knights,  
through the nights of snow, howls and fangs we walked,  
many a lesser giant we slew, and with the help of Light..  
shining from within the holy sword Excalibur,  
I managed to cut off an entire mountaintop,  
by using a druidic ability: nature's targeted wind magic,  
causing an mighty avalanche, which sent the leader..  
of the giants hurling down the mountain's edge  
along with myself, as I kept slashing the grotesque creature  
with Excalibur, inflicting deep wounds of burning radiance,  
and as we finally hit the earth below, beside a fjord,  
final words were exchanged, before a strike of mercy was given."

 

Arthur: "A bandit boss once challenged me to a duel,  
it happened while we were.. in the countryside..  
so foggy.. drinking.. Northwesternshire's finest..  
dark ale, triple hopped, quite strong, a mind's test,  
intoxicated or not, I can utilize my swordsmanskills  
whenever I desire so, rigorously I trained to get this far,  
protected by the wishes of Avalon of falling stars,  
I am Arthur Pendragon, the rightful King of Britain,  
vow to me, and find yeself shelter from my domain."

 

Arthur: "The duel I won,  
the filth cut my royal shirt,  
we dug a pit for his miserable corpse,  
there it was thrown to burn away the impure."

 

The Adventures of Gareth and Gawain

 

Poetic Documentations

 

Gareth and Gawain, brothers in arms,  
nephews to Arthur, seekers of adventures,  
challenges and fame, do not stray  
from the road to valor, uphold  
the scarlet-cerulean white dragon's  
mighty name, do not bring any shame  
on your way to meet danger eye to eye,  
all for the sake of glory.

Tonight we shall drink and feast,  
the least of our problems  
is where to catch a rich meal,  
out in the woods, call upon  
the spirit of the merciful hunt,  
and let the animal be thanked  
for it's gracious sacrifice.

By the bonfire, we sing and tell tales  
of battle to one another 'till  
the glistening morning's first rays.

Time to return back to the tournament,  
that is being held in Arthur's honor,  
where shields, swords and lances greet  
the knights brave ready for combat.

Torment does not belong,  
to where the court bards  
sing many a heroic song,  
accompanied by their voices  
and lutes, conjure up tunes  
righteous and absolute,  
aid the Knights of the Round Table  
to face the truest of brutes,  
shouting, hands clapping,  
the tens of thousands gathered,  
witness the zeal of the warriors,  
cheers to the rightful victors,  
let this spectacle of flying splinters  
and howling roars become unforgettable,  
and if you are just able, do joust  
to your heart's sweet content.

Sirs Gawain and Gareth,  
their horses neighing,  
charge swiftly at one another,  
which one of the siblings  
shall claim the sought-out  
final place in the chain  
of just battles to come:  
to face Arthur in a duel,  
the newly crowned  
High King himself.

 

Poetry based on/inspired by the fantasy television series, 'Merlin', with the addition of 'Saehngraill, the Holy Cup of Life, Blood and Twilit Eternity' from my own version.

 

The Arthurian Scrolls of Legend tell, that you are to wield the Excalibur, a very powerful artifact survived from the banned days of old. You know the Throne is your place to be, and you know it all too well. You are the King of Kings, Arthur Pendragon, and by your iron-strong will, countless of decisive battles - in time - will be won.

My father's reign long since ended, only I remain to rally the knights, and call upon the blessings of both wisdom and might.  
By the Lady of the Lake, a very special gift to me was bestowed,  
a golden sword forged with dragon flame of the olden dark nights, she said. Even if it's magic.. in possession of this weapon, I dare say this age will indeed be mine, for truly my whole existence is now to become divine. I am to rule supreme under this peaceful sky, in which no dragons nor other creatures of old magic fly!

Morgana Le Fay, she is your half-sister, of this you are not yet aware. Neither of the fact, that she is a witch, and that evil reigns secretly within her heart, fated to play it's dark schemes behind the scenes forever. Yet for now, she remains innocent and pure, her thoughts of protective magic are made to endure loss, but only in small proportions. No darkness in her soul yet exists, she who will - in time - become the feared sorceress she was sadly destined to be. Her sister Morgause will show up, with whispers to influence, telling her so many lies, always mixed with truth, ever so confusing the minds of the youth.

In the face of evil, The Round Table beckons the truly brave to claim themselves a seat from around it. To become a part of my royal, honored guard, blessed in sight of the spirits and stars of the world.

 

"So far we see, as we are righteous, and eternal be our glory.  
Nothing can stop us, for we've traveled through dark forests and lands of peril, and been to the legendary Isle of Avalon, where wonders follow one another in an seemingly never-ending loop of magic and mysticism."

 

Guinevere, the Queen, you so shamelessly share a burning passion for two powerful men. One being the King, and the other a lone warrior, a true hand of justice. He, who has seen the work of Merlin the Archmage, yet chooses to keep his tongue, the knowledge entirely to himself. This impresses the sage so much, that he offers this warrior both his loyalty and friendship.

Lancelot they call him, not a Sir, but still true and valiant. Defiant from his nature he is not, yet he foolishly tried to forge a degree of knighthood, but his actions were found out by the Court of Camelot & the King. Ashamed, driven into exile, his face covered with a hood, will the world ever see him again? Rest assured, probably nothing will stop Lancelot from being the superior hero he was nonetheless born to be.

 

But leave Guinevere's heart alone,  
for full of difficulty and impossibilities  
would be a live lived in a secret relationship.  
They truly deserve each other,  
Arthur and Guinevere.  
May no existing, evil power  
take them away from one another,  
except for the cold hand of death.

 

Mordred you should also fear, just a boy, yet also a druid. Dark as a raven from his heart, near him the end is bound to be near. Watch out for his arrival, once that day dawns. He will seek to become a knight, to sit in front of the Round Table of Camelot. He will most likely try to lay claim upon ye crown, this magic-wielding usurper with a mind full of doom and gloom. No room for love and glamour anymore, completely without hope is the night, in which shades Morgana Le Fay has chosen to walk. Merlin, o' what will ye do? Your destiny is heavily intertwined with that of the young King Arthur, who without your daring help through the old ways of magic, will in battle eventually fall. Camelot must not be brought to ruin, I believe it is by your higher call, that this Kingdom is either graciously saved, or by the terrible darkness, hatefully consumed. So many things this yet young king could find, including Saehngraill, the Treasure of the Red Heaven's Golden Light. Myrddin Emrys, with a mighty spell take a control of the very sky, for He who once thought he had slain all of the dragons of olden days, will not be here to see the return of One, with an ability to set the horizon ablaze, and truly once more in time, ignite the very black of night.


End file.
